


Let's Make This Beautiful

by LittleMissWolfie



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/M, First Time, How original, Non-Explicit Sex, Religious Delusion, dead girl walking from jd's point of view, wow look at that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissWolfie/pseuds/LittleMissWolfie
Summary: J.D.'s thought process as he falls in love with Veronica Sawyer in the span of one encounter.





	Let's Make This Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing in the Heathers fandom. 
> 
> I'm sorry.

He has, so far, seen two sides of Veronica Sawyer. He’s seen the meek little lapdog of the bitch in red, scrambling to do as she bade, and he’s seen the flirty, intelligent girl from the 7-11 who took a sip of his slushie to share in his brain freeze.

Neither of these interactions prepare him for the Veronica Sawyer that climbs in his window at three in the morning, drunk and horny and pissed. “I’m here to ride you until I can’t move,” she declares when he asks her why she’s in his room, sounding surprisingly sober for someone who reeked so badly of an amalgamation of so many types of liquor.

“And your friends approve?” he asks.

She scoffs. “Heather Chandler’s already pissed at me. I’ve got about thirty hours before my life is ruined, so I figured I might as well spend them doing something I like.”

“Fucking?”

“You.” Her fingers curl in the fabric of his tee shirt and she drags him to her. Her body collides with his and he feels fire in his veins and along his skin. “Shut up and get on your knees for me.”

He has no choice but to obey. His knees hit the hardwood floor just a bit too loudly and he knows he’ll have bruises form the impact in the morning, but his fingers are trailing up her legs and she realizes she’s not wearing nylons so silly things like bruises don’t matter. He tilts his head up to look at her, flushed and smug and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He remembers a quote from a Flaubert novel: “You’re in my heart like a Madonna on a pedestal, in a lofty, secure, immaculate place.” He used to roll his eyes at it, but now, with Veronica, he understands.

She shrugs her blue blazer off her shoulders and he feels compelled to press his lips to the strip of skin below her navel where her shirt has become untucked from her skirt. His kiss draws a sigh from her parted lips and  _ God, _ he would do anything to make her make that sound again. “D’you have protection?” he asks, panting, praying they don’t have to stop this because he’s never felt more alive than he does here, now, with her.

“I’m on the pill,” she says. She pulls him up to his feet and he follows, willing, so, so willing. He lets her push him to his bed, falls back, watches her straddle him. He asks, “Why me?” and she says, “Because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I think you feel more than you let on.”

“Bullshit,” he says.

“I respectfully disagree.” Her lips are on his forehead and he feels like he’s been blessed. “The world sucks, but this can be our world for tonight.”

He feels her words like a punch, leaving him breathless and reeling. She’s watching him, expecting, waiting for an answer, and he manages, “That works for me,” and he’s thrown backwards once more when she descends upon him ravenously and slams her lips onto his.

And it’s not perfect. It’s messy. When she pulls away to rip his shirt up and over his head, her lipstick is smeared and she has spit on her chin, but he doesn’t mind. “Think we can break your bed?” she asks, voice husky, hands tugging at the elastic waistband of his sleep pants in a clear demand. He rushes to comply, shucking them off, and when he arches to get the pants out from under his ass, his cock presses against her and they both moan. His pants catch on his left foot, turning inside out, but then he sees Veronica reaching under her own skirt to shift her panties out of the way and he’s lost the capacity to care.

She grins at him, feral and lovely and everything good. “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping tonight,” she says, and she sinks down on him.

He’s had sex before. He’s slept with plenty of people, men and women. The mysterious-newcomer-who-probably-won’t-be-here-long schtick is consistently effective for getting people into bed.

None of those previous partners can even compare to Veronica.

He feels helpless underneath her. She takes what she wants without mercy, leaving no room for argument. She tells him to slap her in the face and keens when he does. She tells him to pull on her hair and tenses up around him in response. She rips her own shirt open, buttons hitting the floor like raindrops or bullet casings, and puts his hand on her breast.

He feels like she’s taken away all of his past experiences. He feels like he’s a virgin again, like he’s been reborn, like Veronica has broken him down and rebuilt him just for her.

She says, “Make this whole town disappear,” in a breathy whisper in his ear, her body undulating, and he thinks,  _ yes, anything. _

After stars explode behind his eyes, after Veronica slumps on top of him, her small frame fitting comfortably on his, after what feels like the most significant event of his entire life, he says, “Wanna go again?”

She snorts when she laughs and he loves the sound of it. “I thought boys needed a while to recover.” Her fingertips are trailing over his skin, tracing shapes in the sweat on his chest. He feels J.D. and V.S. He feels a heart. “We can take a power nap first.”

He wants to protest. He wants to get her off with his fingers and his lips and his tongue. He wants to taste her, to feel her, to give her everything he has to give. But her head is on his shoulder now, her lips ticking the skin with little kitten kisses, and her breathing is starting to slow, so he doesn’t push it. He rolls them over to they’re lying on their sides and wraps his arms around her waist to keep her close. She kicks off her shoes, because they both forgot about them in their earlier haste, and he kicks his pants the rest of the way off. She shivers, so he maneuvers them to reach for the blanket and covers them with it. She sighs and wriggles closer to him and uses his arm as a pillow.

She’s probably already asleep when he says “I love you,” but he says it anyway.

* * *

 

She wakes them both up a few hours later, catapulted screaming from a nightmare. He holds her while she shakes, listens to her describe it, and when she begins getting dressed to go running back to the bitch in red, so does he.

“Make this whole town disappear,” she said.

What better place to start than Heather Chandler?


End file.
